


The Appearance of Attraction

by orphan_account



Category: Don't Hug Me I'm Scared (Short Film)
Genre: DHMIS, F/M, Valentine's Day, only a week late not too bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 08:53:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1220149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A certain holiday brings about feelings. And along with that a bleeding heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Appearance of Attraction

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go a fanfic to celebrate my love for these two. Keep in mind that i started this on valentines day, and finished the day after while i was drunk. literally i was drunk i had like 4 shots of tequila dont test me on this

      It’s quiet. Unnaturally so. Usually the house is filled with the sounds of her cooking or singing or even tending to the garden in the back. Tony expects her to attack at every corner; this silence has been going on for too long to feign innocence. He doesn’t doubt that there’s malice behind it. The last time something akin to this happened, there was a three day pause before one of them got killed. And that three day pause consisted of Paige ignoring him right up until she attacked him from behind, resulting in a sharp pen puncturing his lung from the back. Although that was two weeks, five hours, and thirty-two minutes ago, the current situation is starting out the same way.

      Tony expects her to pounce at any minute, he doesn’t know whether to prepare, find and attack her first, or simply wait it out. He preferred that she didn't kill him again, but he’d rather that she initiated the attack first, therefore he’d feel obligated to return the aggression.

      It was on the fourteenth day of the second month that he heard Paige sneaking up behind him. He was standing in the downstairs hallway, equal distance from the kitchen seven feet away and the living room behind him. Either she was planning to bash his brains in or she wanted to strangle him, either way, he remained still as she advanced closer to him. His hand closed around his clock themed sword. He tightened his grip and ever so slowly began to remove it from its sheath on his hip. He swiftly turned around, his sword about to strike her neckline and decapitate her when he noticed-

      That she wasn't about to attack. There was no pencil in her hand. No demented look in her eyes that she wanted to slit his throat. No threatening positions of her body what-so-ever.

      In fact she looked docile. She looked up at Tony with a hopeful and excited touch in her eyes. In her hands, there lay a glossy lump of red. And as Tony looked closer, frozen in his state of surprise, he perceived that it was…

      A heart.

      There was a heart in Paige’s hands. She held them up close to her chest, the human organ flinching whenever she moved them more than a centimeter. Red droplets of blood ran down her forearms, accenting the continued mess of crimson that slowly dripped onto the floor and it occurred to Tony that this heart was fresh. As if she had recently torn it from a human being not even thirty minutes ago.

      It had been two seconds since Tony turned around and immediately he lay down his sword. He replaced it within its sheath without once removing his eyes from Paige’s.

      His arm extended out toward Paige. And she silently placed the heart within his palm.

      Right afterward she turned away, not bothering to experience the expression on his face. Tony held the once functioning heart in his hand. He knew that humans symbolized this organ with feelings, and empathy, and

      Love.

      It was then, on the fourteenth day of the second month that Tony remembered.

      It was Valentine’s Day.

      Such matters of remembering certain dates never bothered him. He never associated with human concerns such as these. But this, this was Paige’s interpretation of this human holiday. She sought it special and worth the time of planning and executing. Tony should reciprocate. He should return whatever feelings that he felt.

      With the bleeding heart still in his hand, it’s essence seeping into his once pristine  white glove and tainting it scarlet, he quietly turned around and began walking the opposite direction of Paige.

 

      He’s never dabbled with Valentine’s Day and for this reason he had no indication on what to give her. He settled with a bouquet of flowers.

      As Tony approached Paige’s room, he began to think of alternatives to her earlier actions. What if this was all a plan? What if she planned on hitting him with a lamp the moment she opened her door, rendering him unconscious and pliable to whatever plans she had in mind? What if this was a test to see if he was weak enough to show his actual feelings towards her? This wasn’t a show of emotions though, he was simply gifting her with flowers, returning the gratitude  that he felt when she gifted him with that… creative present.

      He stood in front of her bedroom door. He had heard her moving about inside, (probably painting on her canvas or making arts and crafts), so he was assured that she was there. His arm reached out, feeling numb and dislocated from his body. He knocked on the door three, rapid, times. There was silence. She had stopped moving inside the room, no continued rummaging nor the clack of her heels against the hardwood floors that covered every inch of the house. The house which wasn’t even exactly theirs since-

      The doorknob turned.

      And the door that led into Paige’s room slowly opened.

      She appeared inch by agonizing inch in the doorway, her usual outfit of a simple white dress adorning her body. Or at least it used to be simple, until she had drawn all over it with minimal doodles then proceeded to accidentally cover it with drops of blood whenever they had one of their little battles. Paige’s face went in stark white contrast against her ink-black arms and neck. Her wide eyes were looking at Tony; and confusion was clear in them. Perhaps she’d never expected him to do this, to come at her door with a present because she had praised him with one earlier.

      Everything stilled. He didn't remember raising his arm to present the flowers to her.

      And this entire time, from his room all the way to hers, he didn’t notice that the flowers were wilting.

      That they began to rot. The luscious pink and red petals were now half darkened and half of them began to bend at their stems. The majority beginning to decay. Tony looked on with dismay, altogether forgetting that his presence could potentially speed up the decomposing process. This never happened. He usually had full control over what he deliberately sped up and what he didn’t.

      Right now was one of the rare instances where he didn’t pay close attention to his powers; his attention being averted to the receiver rather than the gift.

      Paige lifted a hand from her side. He expected it to hold a weapon, a pencil to be used in order to stab into his chest and allow her to watch as the blood and life seeped from his veins and onto his deep blue coat, signifying his defeat and loss at giving into her charade of presenting her “emotions”. He expected her to kill him right then and there, he-

      Paige enclosed her hand around the bouquet of flowers. Her hand brushed against his for exactly one-third of a second.

      She brought them closer to her face, scrutinizing their appearance of decay and colours that were unsaturated as they represented death in the making. But once they were in her hands, they ceased all continuation of decomposing.

      Tony stood right outside her door. He was unsure of what to do. Should he say something? Should he retreat back to his own room? Should he explain to her that he didn’t anticipate the flowers rotting?

      Before Tony could construe a reasonable thought to act upon, Paige’s door began to close. She gave him an odd look and he could’nt tell if it were menacing or endearing.

      He stood in the hallway of the second story of their house, Paige’s door closed and not appearing as though it were about to open again. Two hours, forty-five minutes and eight seconds since she had given him the heart.

      Tony began wondering if what he had done was right. Maybe he should’ve given her a non-decay-able object. Maybe chocolates would have worked. But he had already initiated his act, and although he was the exact personification of the concept of time, he couldn't change it. Yes, he could speed it up, but only reactions, he had no control over ideas or outcomes.

      Tony began his walk up the hallway. Withdrawing his sword from against his hip, he began ticking it across the hardwood floor, calculating and pacing the ticks to match the twenty-four seconds that it would take to reach his room.

 

      It had been three hours, twenty-two minutes, and fifty-eight seconds since Tony had presented the flowers to Paige, or rather, the decaying mass of floral that were once flowers.

      He had recently heard her leave her room and skip down the stairs toward the kitchen. He should follow her, gauge her appearance and conclude whether she was on lethal terms or not. Opening his door, Tony silently made his way down the stairs.

      She was facing the sink and window, her back to him, messing with some sort of object on the counter.

      “I hope you looked in my room as you came downstairs,” she spoke softly, her attention still toward what was in front of her.

      Tony walked closer, distancing himself a good three feet away from her, lest she be handling a knife. “And why’s that, love?” he asked.

      “Nothing,” she sighed. She turned, giving partial attention to him, and revealed that she wasn’t doing anything mischievous. She was instead preparing the ingredients to bake a cake. “Happy Valentine’s day,” she said. “I hope you like this, I’m making it just for us.” She smiled and returned to mixing the ingredients.

      “You’re being quite confident right now,” he said, “You don’t think I might kill you as your back is turned?”

      “Of course not,” she said, as though the thought never crossed her mind. She didn’t even look at him again as she poured a little more flour into the bowl in front of her.

      Tony had never considered Paige as anything more than a challenging if not playful rival. Two people who always battled to defeat and dominate the other. Right now though, he saw her as more, as someone to initiate romantic interests with. She had put forth some obvious signs, what with her present from earlier and now this cake that she was creating. Maybe she’s going to poison it. Maybe this is still all an illusion to get the better of him. Even though these thoughts never fully left his mind, Tony considered the situation at hand, how she trusted him not to attack, how she was making the cake for them…

      “Have you come down here to assist me or to assess me?” she inquired. “Either way, it doesn’t matter, you’re not going to kill me like last time.” She was referring to when he had crept into the kitchen only to hit her in the back of the head with the hilt of his sword. He had’nt anticipated for her to lose consciousness that quickly then proceed to internally hemorrhage until she died. But that was a week or two ago. Right now he had to consider her statement as correct. No matter how confident she felt… she was right. He wasn’t here to kill her.

      “I’m not sure, dear, you seem to be in quite the position to be murdered right now.” he bluffed.

      “You haven't brought you sword.”

      “That doesn't mean I can’t be… creative,” he voiced.

      Paige’s hand stuttered in mixing the bowl. She acted as if the word ‘creative’ phased her enough to limit her current action. She digressed the conversation though, knowing all too well that Tony could potentially use anything in the kitchen as a weapon; just as she can.

      Paige’s hands altogether stopped from touching the bowl, instead moving to the edge of the counter, and from there her whole body shifted to face Tony. “If you’re not down here to kill me, then why have you come?”

      Tony leaned against the counter, his hand moving to rest only a few inches away from her’s. “The same reason why you gave me that repulsive organ six hours ago.” he responded.

      Paige’s other arm lifted toward him, her hand placing itself at first against his chest, ghosting temporarily over his heart before sliding higher to settle on the side of his neck. She hadn’t looked in his eyes yet, seeming only to be interested in the material of his coat and the feel of his facial hair against her palm. From there her hand moved to the back of his neck, inclining him to lean toward her.

      “I’m glad that you liked it,” she grinned before placing her lips on his.

      Tony couldn't measure time at that moment. It could’ve been five seconds just as well as it could've been half an hour.

      She slowly retreated from the chaste kiss. Her hand and face lingering close to his person longer than necessary. She removed her hand, returning to her task of mixing the cake batter. “It’ll be done in about an hour, okay?” she stated as though nothing had just happened.

      “Of course,” Tony replied. He remembered that she could potentially fill this cake with poison, but even if with that risk, he knew that he was going to eat some of this cake, regardless.

      Tony began to walk away. He placed his hand on Paige’s shoulder before retreating, temporarily caressing her neck, then her jaw, before walking across the length of the kitchen toward the stairs. Paige looked not at all phased, adamant in concentrating her attention to baking this cake.

      Tony could have snapped her neck. He could have utilized the bowl or kitchen utensil next to him as a bludgeon and killed her right then and there. But the dynamics of their conversation and the powers of his emotions seized him from doing so. He would rather like to see how this evening unfolds, with her promised cake and their suggestively implied relationship.

      Tony made his way up the stairs. His bedroom being the third door on the left, he had to pass Paige’s room every time. Upon passing it right now, he noticed what he had ignored beforehand.

      With her door half open, he was able to see the interior of her room, from her dresser on the far left wall to her bed by the right window. On top of the dresser, he saw something that was never there before, a simplistic vase. And within that vase held a bouquet of decaying flowers.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to Oryx_Gazella because whenever they update i cry


End file.
